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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592868">Purr For Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber'>inber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Inber's Geralt x Jaskier x Reader Fanfiction [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Bathroom Sex, Bondage, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Messy, Multi, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Spitroasting, Submission, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:46:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are feelings unresolved after the stress of the tattoo incident. Jaskier and Geralt want to make it up to you, as well as teach you a new lesson.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Inber's Geralt x Jaskier x Reader Fanfiction [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Purr For Us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I don't feel good about what happened today, Jas'.” Geralt breaks the silence; the two of them are cuddled by the fire, drinking the rest of the bottle of wine. On the bed, you're making tiny snuffling honks as you sleep deeply.</p>
<p>“I don't think any of us do, Geralt.” Jaskier replies, resting his chin on the bigger man's shoulder.</p>
<p>“It's not just what happened, it's... it's a lot of things. The fact that she lied. The way that I... <em>dealt</em> with it.” Memory flashes in his mind's eye, and he winces. The firelight makes his gaze seem cat-like, shiny and precious. “I struck her in anger. I told her it was a lesson, and it <em>was</em>, but...” He struggles, gripping his goblet tighter, “I was angry. And scared. What if she fears me, now? What if every time I go to buckle my belt--”</p>
<p>“<em>Shhh</em>.” The bard soothes, pressing a kiss to Geralt's clavicle. “I can follow her train of thought. Why she lied, I mean. If she'd told us she needed a few hours to herself, you'd have trailed her.” The Witcher grunts, but does not deny it. “But still... I was angry, too. I watched you strike her. Gods, I gave you my <em>own</em> belt – I wanted her to know how I felt, too.” He sighs, and lapses into silence. On the bed, you murmur something unintelligible in your rest, and both men glance over their shoulders to check on you, before returning to their discussion.</p>
<p>“I love her.” Geralt whispers, glancing side-long to his mate, “The thought of her being taken from us... it does <em>something</em> to me. The thought of <em>you</em> being taken--”</p>
<p>Again, Jaskier interrupts, this time pressing his lips to the Witcher's in a brief kiss, assuring the man that he's here, that for now, everyone is safe. “So, we make it better.” He decides, locking gazes, gold-on-aquamarine. “Firstly, you spend more time with her, honing her skills with a blade. They are decidedly lacking.”</p>
<p>Geralt grunts again, and both of them recall the time you faced off against Jaskier – you with a sword, and the bard with a stick. The stick had won. The stick might have won without Jaskier even wielding it.</p>
<p>“Secondly,” Jaskier continues, “We conduct another lesson tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“I think perhaps she's had <em>enough</em> lessons for awhile.” Geralt is quick to dismiss the idea, and beside him, the bard chuckles roughly.</p>
<p>“She'll like this lesson, Ger'. Come now. I'm the brains of this operation, remember?”</p>
<p>The Witcher snorts, placing his goblet down, rising, helping his lover to his feet; it's far past midnight, and they can both use some rest.</p>
<p>“<em>And</em> the beauty, <em>and</em> the charm, <em>and</em> the--”</p>
<p>“Shut up, Jas'.”</p>
<p>“Love you too, Geralt.”</p>
<p>–---------------------</p>
<p>You blink blearily awake to the sun streaming through the curtains; it's high in the sky, indicating an approach towards noon, and you glance around yourself in a daze. You notice two things immediately; firstly, you're not slotted between your boys as you usually are. Secondly, your rear hurts if you so much as <em>twitch</em> a muscle in your leg. You make a low moan.</p>
<p>“There's the sleepy Kitten,” You hear Jaskier's sweet voice, and you crane your head, watching him carry over a tray, “We've nothing of import to do today, so we all slept in.” He places a glass beside the bed, as well as a vial, and a mug of steaming tea. You can smell the lemongrass in it, and know it's your favourite blend.</p>
<p>“Morning, Jaskier.” You rasp, and he hands you the tea. Sipping at it, you taste the hint of honey, and feel it soothe your throat. The world still feels soft at the edges; a hangover from the poppy-milk. “Where... is Geralt?” There's a tiny note of panic in your tone, and the bard catches it immediately, empath that he is; he kisses your temple.</p>
<p>“He's--”</p>
<p>“I'm in here, Kitten!” You hear Geralt's unmistakable smoke-and-stone baritone coming from the bathroom adjoining, and you relax. He does so love to bathe; it makes sense to you that he'd take advantage of a lazy day to do so.</p>
<p>“He's in there.” Jaskier finishes, redundantly, picking up the vial on the bedside and carefully measuring out a few drops to put into the water. “Here. It will make the pain better, but it won't make you tired like the poppy-milk. It's a little bitter, so chase it with the tea.”</p>
<p>Nodding, trusting, you take the water and drink it in a few quick swallows; you are parched, but it does taste like chewing a grapefruit rind, not remotely pleasant. You make a face, and Jaskier chuckles, handing you back your tea. Gratefully, you sip it. “What are we to do today?” Your voice is stronger, and you go to sit up, visibly uncomfortable at the movement. The drugs won't take hold for at least another ten minutes, you presume. “I can go downstairs to fetch us breakfast... or lunch?”</p>
<p>“No need, sweet.” Geralt emerges from the bathroom, one of your lesser-used nicknames making you smile instantly; curiously, however, the Witcher is fully dressed, his shirt rolled up to the elbows. “We have food prepared in here.”</p>
<p>Your face must be the embodiment of a question mark, because Jaskier tucks a strand of your hair away from your face. “Today is another teaching day, Kitten.” Your features fall as the previous night's lesson returns to you, apprehension knotting across your brow; in a heartbeat, Geralt is knelt at the bedside too, taking your hand, kissing your fingers.</p>
<p>“<em>Not </em>like last night.” He's quick to rumble, “Today we're all learning. We spoke last night – Jaskier and I – and we're troubled by the breakdown in communication.”</p>
<p>“I wanted it to be a <em>surprise</em>.” You defend, meekly, as you look down at the tattoo on your breast. It's already scabbed over, beginning to heal.</p>
<p>“We know. We understand that.” Jaskier soothes, “Which is why today's lessons will be for <em>all</em> of us. We need to talk, to learn to understand everything about one another.” He glances at Geralt. “<em>Some</em> of us need to talk more than others.” The Witcher grunts. You giggle.</p>
<p>“I am for you, then.” You say, as you often do at the start of play-time, “Your wants are mine.”</p>
<p>“Not today, Kitten.” Geralt grins, that rare flash of ivory, and you squeak as he lifts you effortlessly from the bed and into his arms, standing. “Today, <em>we</em> are for you. Your wants are ours.”</p>
<p>–---------------------</p>
<p>The bathroom is exquisite. There's just no other word for it.</p>
<p>Freshly cut flowers are arranged in spectacular bunches around the room, your favourite peonies and cream roses; there are dozens upon dozens of candles lit in jars, bathing the entire room in a romantic low-light as the flames dance cheerfully in their safe prisons. Beside the floor-set bath, there's an enormous tray filled with freshly cut fruit, whipped cream, melted chocolate; there are cheeses and roughly-cut baker's bread, and bunches of grapes. The tub is full of steaming water, and you can smell your favourite oil blend, lemon and ginger and rosemary. You are only aware that your jaw is hanging open in shock because Geralt starts to laugh, and the sound is probably the only thing that can tear you away from this beautiful display.</p>
<p>“You both-- you <em>did this--</em>” Tears prick at your eyes, and your bottom lip wobbles. It's one of the kindest gestures you've received.</p>
<p>“<b>No,</b> Kitten,” Jaskier points a finger at you, “<em>Don't</em> you cry. Because then<em> I'll </em>cry, and Geralt... will roll his eyes at us.”</p>
<p>Geralt rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>You sniffle, smiling, and rub the back of your hand across your eyes. “Forgive me, it's just... after yesterday, I feel I do not deserve this.”</p>
<p>Gently, the Witcher sets you down. The muscles of your legs do not send a sharp ache to your behind anymore – it's more of a dull throb – and you know the medicine Jaskier gave you is working. “We failed you last night, Kitten.” Geralt explains, as he starts to undo the laces on his shirt. Beside him, Jaskier is disrobing, too. “When I punished you... it wasn't the right <em>time</em> to do it. I should have waited. I protect us all, and I did wrong by you. Whilst you were deserving of punishment, it should have been different. For that I am sorry.”</p>
<p>“As am I.” Jaskier speaks, and you catch his lapus-lazuli eyes, beautifully glittering in the candlelight. “I could have stopped him, or said something – but I was angry, too. I didn't think, too. I am sorry.”</p>
<p>You open and close your mouth; it hadn't crossed your mind that the two men had faulted you. You trusted them so deeply; their judgement was the world that you lived in, and within it you thrived. Granted, last night had not been at all pleasurable, but you understood their reasons. “But I disobeyed--”</p>
<p>“<em>Not </em>an excuse for what happened after.” Geralt pushes his trousers down, and for once you're not eyeing his physique like it's your last meal; your focus is on his soft features.</p>
<p>“Forgive us?” Jaskier asks, gently; he stands naked beside Geralt, and you're nodding in half-a-second. You'd try to pluck the moon from the very sky if they asked it of you. You'd endure punishment far greater than that inflicted upon you the night before. It was love, the kind of love you had to give; their love surrounds you in that bathroom, too – the kind they have to offer.</p>
<p>“Of course.” The breathiness of your voice is a rush, “I hold no grudge.”</p>
<p>Geralt kisses the top of your head, and Jaskier ducks underneath him to kiss your lips, and you feel the buzz of adoration thrill through you; you're truly cherished, and two tears finally sneak out as you close your eyes and bask in it.</p>
<p>“Come, now.” The Witcher takes your hands, guiding you to the bath, “There is more water boiling, but the stone holds the heat rather well.” Your feet slip into the water, and you enter the bath as you always do; getting used to the heat slowly, gingerly. Geralt submerges himself like a hippopotamus, groaning at the feeling of the lush water. Behind you, Jaskier is somewhere between these methods; he takes his time to sit down on the built-in ridge of the tub, but he's faster than you.</p>
<p>“Here, Kitten.” The bard takes your hand, and guides you to the step beside him. They have submerged a towel, cushioning for the bruising on your rear. The thoughtfulness makes you want to burst into tears anew, but you bite it back, smiling all wobbly, and sink into the bath with a breathy sigh.</p>
<p>“Oh<em>hhh</em>.” You purr, the sound piquing the interest of both men, “This feels<em> amazing.</em>” With your eyes closed, you allow yourself to relax into the embrace of the water, letting it support you, soothe your muscles, wrap you in waves of warmth and calm. You feel Geralt move so he's sat on your other side, but you can't find the willpower to open your eyes just yet.</p>
<p>Gently, his fingers are in your hair, and you feel a comb work through your locks, as Jaskier swishes in the water beside you. “Open your mouth, Kitten.” The bard instructs, and you do as you are told without looking, trusting. A mouthful of chocolate, cream, and ripe strawberry explodes on your tongue and you moan again, curling your toes. Everything is a feast for your senses; the gentle touch of the two men as Geralt brushes your hair out, the sweep of Jaskier's fingers on your mouth as he feeds you, the heady scent of the water and the flowers, the taste of each fruit on your tongue. Bruises? <em>What</em> bruises? This must be what heaven feels like.</p>
<p>Geralt tips your chin back and pours water over your hair, beginning to wash it, and you absolutely melt under his strong fingertips on your scalp. Jaskier has picked up a cloth and is running it across your body, bathing you, mindful of your tattoo. You are actually <em>whimpering.</em></p>
<p>“Talk to us, Kitten.” Jaskier whispers, and your eyes finally flutter open. You're flushed, pliant in their hands, and the words tumble with ease from your parted lips.</p>
<p>“Feels so nice,” You breathe, “I feel so... everything feels so good.”</p>
<p>There's a slow stream of water as Geralt rinses your hair, and then gently combs through it again. “Your nipples are hard, sweet.” He licks a droplet of water from your earlobe, and you shiver bodily. “Feels that good, huh?”</p>
<p>“<em>So good.</em>” You echo, and you gasp when you feel his heavy hand palm your breast, gently rolling a pebbled nipple, softly pinching. “Oh, <em>yes.</em>”</p>
<p>“You like that?” Jaskier's voice is at your other ear, as his fingers dance under the water, thumb flicking your other peak back-and-forth lazily. Unbidden, you arch into their touch. “Tell us, Princess.”</p>
<p>His own pet name for you – used as rarely as Geralt's – causes an explosion of fluttering in your stomach, and you bite your lower lip. “It's... turning me on, it's making me<em> hot...</em>” You sigh, wetting your lips with your tongue, “I want-- I <em>want--</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes?” Geralt urges, the rasp of his stubble sharp on your cheek as his mouth presses kisses into your jaw, “What is it that you want?”</p>
<p>“I want<em> you.</em> <b>Both</b> of you. Please, <em>Gods.</em>”</p>
<p>Jaskier's hand has slunk lower beneath the water, down your stomach, and impatiently you jerk your hips upwards, wanting him to be between your legs. He chuckles darkly. “You'll have to be more specific, Ki-i-tten.” There's a song in his tone, and you watch as the two men meet before you, sharing a heated kiss as they tease and stroke your body with their expert touch. You <em>love</em> watching them embrace, and don't they know it.</p>
<p>Geralt's teeth graze Jaskier's lower lip, and the bard moans into his lover's mouth at the same time as his hand finds your slit, running two fingers down the slick of you, soaking – even whilst you are soaking, <em>literally</em>. You whine and rock into his touch. They deepen their kiss, Jaskier's other hand tangling in the snowy mane of Geralt's damp hair, and you realise they aren't going to stop making out until you are more specific, as the bard demanded of you.</p>
<p>“I... I need you to f-fuck me.” You admit, the sultry husk of your voice low and pleading as Jaskier barely grazes your clit, making you gasp. “I need <em>both</em> of you – to feel you inside me. My mouth, my cunt – <em>please</em>. Please<em> <b>fuck me</b></em><b>.</b>”</p>
<p>This earns you their attention as they part, and two sets of eyes focus on you; one is dark amber and predatory, and the other is an effervescent fizz of sky-blue; both are lustful and possessive.</p>
<p>“Good girl.” Geralt praises, and as ever, the two words make you soar. They take turns kissing you, Jaskier's fingers curled inside you in a lazy finger-fuck as Geralt's thumb rubs your clit with just enough pressure to make your legs flex and your stomach clench. You're moaning openly into each of their mouths, licking at Geralt's stubbly upper lip, suckling Jaskier's tongue, trying in vain to rock against their set pace, to quicken it. It's so hot, so damn good; you're on the precipice, and they <em>know</em> it, but they aren't pushing you over. You bite off a frustrated huff.</p>
<p>“Words, Kitten.” Jaskier reminds you, as your inner thighs tremble. He presses his talented fingers against the rough bundle of nerves inside you, rubbing with each stroke of his hand.</p>
<p>“I want to come!” You keen, your head lolling back as your breath bursts from you, raggedly. Geralt casually suckles your nipples, the graze of his teeth making you jump. His thumb presses down a little harder. “Please, <em>please </em>let me come. I need to <em>come.</em>” Your words are a babble, but you don't care; you'll beg harder if you have to.</p>
<p>But that's not what this lesson is about.</p>
<p>Jaskier murmurs his approval as he quickens his pace, knowing exactly how to stroke you to get you off, and Geralt's insistent rub on the swollen button of your clit is just as masterful, and in less than ten seconds they have you manipulated into orgasm, full-body shivering in their arms, your cries echoing off the ceilings of the room; your velvety walls pulse in a hard rhythm against Jaskier's fingers as he coaxes each wave from you, skilfully aware of how to keep you riding that high until you peak a second time, less intense; a silky splash that rolls up the column of your spine and has you moaning like you're in heat.</p>
<p>Carefully, gently, they slow their movements; Geralt removes his thumb first, and then Jaskier slips from you, leaving you empty but temporarily sated. Dazedly, you blink, focusing on your boys again, all flush and grinning.</p>
<p>“You're so fuckin'<em> beautiful </em>when you come for us.” Geralt snarls, sucking at your neck; you feel his erection nudge your hip, and Jaskier's on the other side as he cuddles into you. Your hands are on both of them, wherever you can touch; you graze the hair of Geralt's abdomen, you sweep Jaskier's dusky nipple with your fingers until it hardens; your hands work down to grip both of their cocks, squeezing them, knowing how they like to be stroked; you're hand-job ambidextrous, and you're pretty proud of it.</p>
<p>“I want to make you feel good, too.” You tell them; you're opening up, as Jaskier cleverly predicted, vocal with your needs. Whilst you're still under their dominion, you're directing the pleasure. Geralt huffs out a hot breath when your thumb swipes the ridge of his head, and Jaskier's cock is throbbing thickly in your hand. You know what you want.</p>
<p>Carefully, you manoeuvre yourself astride the bard's lap, your back to him, gaze over the curve of your shoulder; there's a question of consent in your eyes, and he nods once; you lower yourself, feeling him enter your orgasm-tight walls, and your moans entwine at the sensation. Geralt is watching with hooded eyes, his hand wrapped around his length, stroking.</p>
<p>“Stand for me, Geralt.” You ask, not yet moving in Jaskier's lap, although you exercise the muscles of your cunt on purpose, clenching him, making him curse and hiss softly every time you do. The Witcher does as you ask, and you give him a smile of thanks; now that he's towering over you like this, your mouth is free to take him. He offers you his body, and you part your lips, the underside of your tongue stroking him once and forcing a twitch as he grunts; jealously, you kiss the precome that beads on the tip of him, licking it away.</p>
<p>“Gods, Kitten,” Jaskier pants in your ear, “<em>Move</em> for me. I want to feel you.” He's realised that this lesson has extended to include everyone, and with a mewl of desire, you indulge him. You begin a slow rock in his lap, the muscles of your cunt a tight fist around him, and he grips your hips to guide you, gritting his teeth and grunting in delight. Your mouth is open against the head of Geralt's cock, spittle dripping from the tip of your tongue; every time you writhe forward, you brush him, and he finally picks up on your little game, too.</p>
<p>“<b>Suck me.</b>” He commands; no pet-names, for he is far too wound-up. Rivers of precome are dressing his reddened dick, and it's standing impressive and nearly vertical, advertising his desire. Wordlessly, you comply, pausing your rhythm only to get your mouth comfortable 'round the Witcher's girth, thick as it is. You are practiced, though, and in mere moments you've adopted a rhythm to suit both men; Jaskier bottoms out each time you sit in his lap, meeting you with thrusts of his hips, gasping, and Geralt's cock sheaths deeply in your throat every time you move forward, the Witcher's pleasure expressed in gutteral growls and captive breath released harshly.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Geralt grits out, his hands on the back of his head so he can simply look down and watch the explicit pornography that is playing out before him; his entire abdomen is knitted tight, and already he feels the urge to spill down your throat. But it's too good, and he needs it to last as long as possible. “Fuu<em>uck</em>, Kitten. You have such a <em>good</em> fuckin' mouth. Such a good girl.” Your tongue laves that spot on the underside of his cockhead, and he flinches. “<em>Nghh</em>, yes. You know how I like it, don't you?”</p>
<p>You purr your agreement as Jaskier begins to thrust deeper into you, the water splashing around you, his hands tight on your waist. You are thankful they numbed the pain of your bruises; whilst there's still an ache, it's somehow pleasant, and you start to feel the tell-tale quiver of your pussy again, warning of another climax approaching. “You <em>love</em> this, don't you?” Jaskier's panting is at your ear, as he relinquishes his right hand's hold on you so he can toy with your clit, making you moan around Geralt's cock, which in turn forces another stream of precome from the Witcher's tip onto your tongue, the bigger man snarling. “I can feel... <em>fuck,</em> I can<b> feel </b>how much you love it, Kitten.” The bard's teeth graze your earlobe, and your feel your legs begin to shake. “You're gonna come for us again, aren't you?” He punctuates his sentence with a harder thrust of his hips, and you swallow hard around Geralt, your eyes squeezing shut.</p>
<p>“I want to <em>see </em>you come,” The Witcher demands, and the dark streak in his voice commandeers your entire mind. Your eyes fly open to lock with his; there is almost nothing of his gilded irises, all domineering pupil, and he's fixated on you.</p>
<p>It's enough to see you undone.</p>
<p>Thrusting back hard against Jaskier, with the tip of Geralt still in your mouth, the contractions of your cunt begin a violent milk around the bard, which forces him to thrust forward, through the spasm of your orgasm, finding his own in quick succession as he shouts in surprise at the suddenness of it, grinding deeply into you; you feel the flex of him on your fucked-out walls as he comes deeply within you, the notes of his bliss the most perfect music you could ever imagine. This whole time, you focus on Geralt's gaze until nothing else in the world exists, trying your best to continue sucking him off through the pulses that echo through you, a firestorm that ravages your body, your puffy pussy leaking Jaskier's come as the bard stills against you, heaving his breath.</p>
<p>Geralt holds out against this sight for as long as he can, but somewhere in the middle of Jaskier's keening, his own control breaks, and he fists your hair, drawing you in as close as he knows you're comfortable with as his thick length throbs in your throat, the precursor to a veritable flood of his seed that you swallow with obedience. “<b>Fuck!</b>” He roars, hunched over you; he's the one to break the eye-lock first, his handsome features struck with ecstasy as he comes and comes, withdrawing only to let the last of his orgasm streak your mouth and chin; he watches this, panting, and you know how much he adores marking you. You curl your tongue as his cock trembles, two more jets of his come white-hot on you mouth before he's utterly spent, staggering back one step, feeling behind him for the stone so that he can sink into the water, completely had.</p>
<p>Jaskier gently withdraws from you with a shiver, also needing to sit back, and you almost fall over sideways in the tub before he catches you, guiding you back onto the cushion of the towel. You feel boneless and free, and the only sounds in the room are your breaths; Geralt catches his first, of course, but you and Jaskier relax blissed-out and snuggly. The bard turns your head so you're facing him, and he kisses you, tasting the Witcher's seed on your tongue. You purr, trading the saltiness, aware that Geralt is watching you both intently from the other side of the tub.</p>
<p>“I liked this lesson.” You whisper, as you pull away, sated eyes drifting over to Geralt, who is smirking.</p>
<p>“Agreed.” Jaskier chimes, reaching behind him to fetch a jug of wine; he's too lazy to pour into the cups, so he drinks from the spout, and offers it to you. You do the same, before leaning across to hand it to Geralt.</p>
<p>“I don't know where you learned that <em>thing</em> with your tongue – <em>and I don't want to know </em>--” His jealousy makes itself briefly known, “But <b>fuck.</b>” The Witcher's compliment makes you squirm, and you grin at him.</p>
<p>“I want a na<em>aap</em>.” Jaskier announces, rising from the tub, idling on his way to get a towel; he stops by the food and picks at the cheese.</p>
<p>“I want to lick your come out of our Kitten's cunt.” Geralt utters, and Jaskier pauses mid-chew; you waste absolutely <em>no</em> time in pushing yourself up onto the side of the tub, spreading your legs wide in invitation. The Witcher makes a noise like a wild thing, and stands, wading over to kneel between your thighs.</p>
<p>“...Nap can wait.” Jaskier's voice is a low husk, and he has a towel wrapped around him, but he's returned to the side of the tub to sit behind you. Smiling, he coaxes you to lay back against him, pulling your arms up, effectively securing you for Geralt's consumption. You lock your fingers behind him.</p>
<p>Geralt's oral assault is just that – there's nothing foreplay or gentle about it. He absolutely<em> feasts</em> on you with long licks, thrusting his tongue into your cunt, tasting Jaskier and your freely-flowing juices with a hedonistic rumble in his chest. Your head falls back, and you gasp, your whimpers turning into high-pitched squeals when his stubble-rough lips find your already fuck-spent clit and suckle. You're so wound up from everything that it barely takes <em>any</em> effort on his behalf to force you into climax as Jaskier holds you; with two fingers in your pussy, he sucks and fucks you, and you jerk against his face as much as you are allowed in your restrained position, your voice hoarse; you think you might be screaming Geralt's name, but you're not sure it's intelligible. He growls into your coming cunt, his tongue replacing his fingers as a wash of you, spiked with Jaskier, spills into his waiting mouth. As he always does, he plays you like a puppet, making you pulse until it almost hurts, and only then does he let up, his hot breath on your abused folds a last wash of pleasure.</p>
<p>Jaskier's grip slackens, and you're glad he's behind you, because you have no strength to support yourself. They've rendered you entirely speechless, mindless; you're their sleepy plaything, and the expression on your face makes both of them chuckle in amusement.</p>
<p>“Mmm<em>mnhhuhh.</em>” You manage; it's not a word. Jaskier laughs again.</p>
<p>“Gotta communicate, remember, Kitten?” He teases, and you blink up at him blearily.</p>
<p>“<em>Please... bed.</em>” Again, not really a sentence, but at least it's more understandable. Geralt smiles, steps out of the bath, and picks up a towel, lifting you into it and into his arms. You settle into his chest as he carries you back to the bed, Jaskier following.</p>
<p>Once you're dry enough, he places you on the bedspread, and Jaskier slots in behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. Geralt stands over the two of you, and his gaze is domineering fondness; his two loves, the two halves of his heart, curled together like puzzle-pieces. Sleepy-eyed, you reach for him, your intention simple; <em>join us.</em> Behind you, Jaskier is already asleep, his distinctive soft snoring a comforting sound.</p>
<p>“I have... something to <em>attend to,</em> Kitten.” He whispers, and you're confused and a little hurt, until you glance down and realise how hard he is; <em>Witcher stamina</em>. Maybe Jaskier's recovery period is longer, but no doubt Geralt was aching the second you'd kissed the bard back in the tub. You feel selfish, and push back the sated sleepiness that is clawing at your body.</p>
<p>“Let me help.” You offer, and he leans over to kiss your forehead.</p>
<p>“No, sweet. You were so good. You need to rest.” His right hand loosely fists his cock, and he squeezes; you see the glisten of precome drip from him. “This won't take long.”</p>
<p>“Then... I want to <em>watch</em>.” Your voice is barely audible, but your eyes are lustful and wide. He tilts his head, grunting at the unveiled desire riding your tone, and can't refuse.</p>
<p>He stands at the side of the bed, pleasuring himself in long strokes, his gaze locked with your own. Your breathing quickens with his, and you wet your lips, remembering the feel of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue. “You look so <em>hot</em>.” You confess, and his upper lip curls in a feral snarl. “Stroking yourself in front of me, <em>knowing</em> I can't touch...” Dryly, you swallow. “Fuck, it's making me <em>wet,</em> Geralt.”</p>
<p>“You've come enough times tonight, I think.” He responds, but his voice is a rumbling thunder; your words are turning him on. His length pulses in his grip, and he smooths the slick of his weeping tip back down his shaft, stroking faster, harder, concentrating beneath the ridge of his cockhead.</p>
<p>“<em>That's</em> how I know to suck you, Geralt.” You whisper-sigh, “From watching you touch yourself. From watching you make yourself come.” He shudders, and you know he's close; his breathing is a hitching growl in the base of his throat.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck,</em> Kitten...” He pants, reaching to the nightstand for a cloth.</p>
<p>“No,” You plead, gently shifting slightly from Jaskier for a better angle; the bard is so exhausted he doesn't even stir. “Come on my chest. I wanna <em>feel </em>it.”</p>
<p>Before you even finish your sentence he's undone, gripping the cloth tightly in his left hand so he doesn't wake Jaskier with his noise, but he still pants and groans lowly as his come streams from the tip of him, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spends himself exactly where you asked, thick lines of his seed striping your breasts, that tattoo, dripping from your pebbled nipples; he bares his teeth as he is rocked by this self-made pleasure, bolstered by you, and as the last of his orgasm drips down his cock, he finally sits on the side of the bed, hunched over, the muscles of his chest flexing. You writhe luxuriously on the bed, moaning lowly, adoring the way he does this; it's the way he claims you, and you know he loves it as much as you do. You draw your fingertips through his thick load, feeling the heat of him. He watches, and grunts his approval.</p>
<p>“Such a good girl.” Gently, he takes that cloth and uses it to clean you, his movements reverent; he's careful with the tattoo. You can feel that he's finally spent, exhausted body and mind, and when he's done wiping you down, he settles onto the bed on his side, facing you.</p>
<p>The dynamic is wrong; usually you are spooning Jaskier, and Geralt is spooning you, but Jaskier has his arm draped across your hip and his face buried into the crook of your neck. “He'll roll over eventually.” You whisper, and Geralt smiles.</p>
<p>“I can see your face this way, though.” He murmurs, snuggling closer to you. His fingertips trace your cheekbones, your lips, your chin. “So beautiful.”</p>
<p>Sleepily, you smile, and lean over a little to kiss him. It's sweet and slow, a promise that you'll wake up together; a pact of ownership and the comfort of your submission. He drapes a large arm over your waist, above Jaskier's, and you watch his citrine eyes grow hooded, and then close.</p>
<p>“<em>I love you.</em>” You utter into the stillness of the room; your boys are asleep, but your words are for the both of them. Unable to resist the spell of their deep, traded breathing, your eyes close too, and in the safe glow of adoration, you sleep.</p>
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